The Disaster Zone: Little Beth
by LMSharp
Summary: Part Two in the Disaster Zone series. There are only so many options for a foster kid with nothing in the tough streets of East Side Vancouver. Beth Shepard is determined to make it out, but in order to get that far, she needs protection. But can Beth get what she wants from the Tenth Street Reds without tipping her hand or selling her soul? An Earthborn Shepard prequel.
1. Initiation

I

Initiation

It was months of research and work before she was ready. She got their attention by using a school console to send a little program she'd developed herself over to the boss's omni-tool. Fritzed all Lopez's tech out, then popped up with a little animation of her laughing and waving, with a simple text message scrolling across the holo-display over and over again: "Hi. I'm Beth. Can I come play?"

She'd chosen the Tenth Street Reds. They were established enough that they didn't feel the need to prove themselves in the gang wars so much but not so established all the new gangs wanted to take _them_ on to get respect and territory. Took men and women and treated them both the same, or so the word was. They had their fingers in a little bit of everything without monopolizing any one trade. Drugs; the nastier, illegal gambling; skycar theft and salvaging; hacking; personal protection for some of the baddies that could afford it. Everything but people. The Reds didn't deal in human trafficking or prostitution of any kind, and the boss, Tony Lopez, came down with all the power he had to bear on any Red that broke that rule.

But the main reason Beth had decided to get the Tenth Street Reds to take her on, the number one reason, was that on the survey of ex-bangers she'd run with hearsay and careful, careful interviews, along with all the other stuff she'd been doing, she'd run into more Reds that had retired out of the gang without any trouble than from any of the others. Her chances of getting out after she'd got in were better with the Tenth Street Reds than they were with the Comets or any of the others.

Two days after she'd sent the program, she caught them following her from the intermediate. There were just two at first. Beth looked directly back at one of them, grinned, winked, and kept going, stomach fluttering with nerves. One of them made a call, and then there were three, then five, then eight. Beth walked into a back alley, took up her stance, and waited.

Lopez was a stocky man in his early thirties with a sly, deceptive, dimpled smile and thick, curling, black hair. He had a gun in the back of his waistband and wore a leather jacket, but otherwise he didn't look at all like a banger and neither did his crew, which was probably, Beth reasoned, why his gang mostly flew under the radar of the cops. The men and women with him, hard-faced and silent, ranging in age from a kid just a couple years older than Beth to a man that looked to be in his forties, and dressed to allow freedom of movement, fanned out to circle Beth while Lopez stood opposite. His omni-tool still flickered with Beth's program, and Beth allowed herself to smile.

"Beth, huh?" he asked. Straight to the point. Beth could handle that.

"Beth Shepard," she replied. Her mouth was dry.

"Beth Shepard. Little Beth. You gonna tell me what the hell you've done to my omni-tool?"

"No," Beth said, more bravely than she felt. "But I'll shut it down for you, and if you want, I'll do it again for you. To someone else. Or I could do something else. Hack somebody's account, maybe, or shut down somebody's security. Or build up your security so nobody can hack it."

Lopez gave her the once-over. "What are you? Nine?" he scoffed.

Beth bristled. "Twelve. They'll never see me coming. You didn't. And none of your people did, either, or could stop me, or you wouldn't be here, would you?"

"This isn't a game, little girl," Lopez said. "Go back to your parents."

"Don't have any. Nothing holding me back."

"Yeah, 'cept a fart would blow you away," snorted the youngest of the ones Lopez had brought with him, a tall, red-headed girl of about sixteen with a scar on her cheek. "Lopez, she's just a stupid kid. Forget her. Grab another omni-tool off the ones we lifted last week."

"Kid, yes, but hardly a stupid one, I think," Lopez murmured. "Still," he said. "Stace is right. Go home, Little Beth."

Lopez stood aside and extended his arm, offering her a way out of the alley, but Beth didn't move. "You need me," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

Lopez looked at her for a long moment, and looked around at the guys he'd brought. Some of them looked impressed, but mostly, they looked doubtful. Some, like Stace, looked annoyed. Lopez shook his head then. "I warned you," he said, and signaled the crew. "Teach her a lesson."

Beth used everything she'd ever learned in years of schoolyard fistfights against groups older and bigger than she was, and it wasn't enough. There were seven of them, all full grown and experienced, and she was still little, like they said, and all on her own. She kicked and clawed and punched and bit, but the fists were too big, too heavy. She staggered under the blows, fell. The blows slackened off at once. The idea was to punish her for wasting their time and trashing Lopez's omni-tool, not kill her. Beth staggered back to her feet and put her fists back up before they'd had a chance to back off.

"That all you got?" she gasped, tasting blood from her nose and hearing the ringing in her ears. Her knuckles were red, and she thought maybe a couple of her ribs were broken.

Three of them hesitated, stood back. Stace was one. The other four came at her again. Again Beth fought them, battling just not to drown in pain, just to keep standing. Her arms went every which way, but didn't stave off the blows, like rain. She cried out as one twisted her arm and dislocated her shoulder. She fell to her knees.

Again Lopez's Reds fell back. A few feet away Beth saw Lopez watching her. She climbed to her feet again. "Just stay down, kid!" Stace yelled. "Stay down!"

"I . . . I could . . . I could do this all day," Beth ground out from between clenched teeth.

Now only one of them came, a big, towheaded man with dirty teeth and an ugly smile. He, alone of them, was enjoying this. He came down with the edge of his hand on Beth's dislocated shoulder, and Beth screamed. He aimed another punch right at her face, but Lopez whistled sharply, and Beth's attacker held, then stepped back.

"Enough." Lopez walked forward again, touched Beth's face gently, assessing the damage. Beth winced. "You got guts, Little Beth. I'll give you that."

"Well, thanks," Beth managed through a bloody mouth. Her tongue was bleeding more than her split lip, from biting it to keep off the tears. "Out of gratitude for that, I'll even—ah!"

She cried out again as Lopez shoved her arm back into its socket without warning.

"I'll even give your people their stuff back."

"What . . . ?" Lopez stared at her in consternation.

Beth took a breath, and reached into her pockets, and produced the credits, IDs, and keys she'd managed to lift off the crew in the struggle. Learning to pick pockets, and under duress, had taken Beth even longer than developing the omni-tool hack and researching the local gangs.

Lopez looked, and stared. Then he laughed. "Guys, take a look at this." He took the stuff from Beth and passed it around. There were murmurs of disbelief, shock, approval.

"Son of a bitch!"

"While she was . . . Hah!"

"She got _you_ , too, Sam?"

Lopez shook his head. "Well, Little Beth. Welcome to the Reds."

Six of the seven murmured assent. All except that last guy, the big guy. He stared coldly down at Beth as the others welcomed her with varying degrees of enthusiasm or disbelief.

And Stace said her welcome reluctantly, and as the crew dispersed, after Lopez gave her instructions to base and orders to show up in a few days once she'd healed up, she stuck around. "I've got a sister your age," she remarked, leaning up against the brick wall of the alley, arms folded. "If she ever set foot near the bangers, I'd kill her. I'm here so she doesn't have to be. Kid, why didn't you just stay down?"

"Can't," Beth said through a swollen jaw getting worse every second. "I don't have a sister."

Stace sighed. "Well, we can certainly use you. Old Lukas is about twenty years out of date with tech. You'll meet him later, I guess. Come with me. I'm pretty sure Jim broke some of your ribs with one of those hits. I heard the crack. Let's get you to the clinic." She stood, jerked her head for Beth to follow.

"No!" Beth cried, much more vehemently than she intended. Stace stepped back, surprised, then looked down at Beth with narrowed eyes. Beth breathed, then spoke again, making an effort to keep calm this time. "No. I'll take some meds at the home. I wouldn't be able to move if one had pierced something important, and I've had broken ribs before. I know what to do."

"Some reason you don't want to go to the clinic?" Stace asked.

"I . . . I don't like doctors," Beth lied. The nearest clinic was East Sixteenth. She didn't want to risk running into Joan Redding the night her Shepard had joined a gang.

* * *

 **A/N: Welcome to Part Two of The Disaster Zone! If you're here from Part One,** _ **Nobody's Child**_ **, welcome! If you were a fan of the original fic, welcome back! If you're just now discovering me, you're welcome too. Head on over to my profile and check out Part One to read about Beth Shepard's early childhood.**


	2. After Hours

II

After Hours

"Hey, Little Beth!" Finn called, raising his beer to her. "Why don't you join us?"

Beth tipped a wave at the celebrating group in the corner of the warehouse Lopez ran the Reds out of after hours. "I'm twelve, you idiot," she called back. "It's illegal!" Everyone laughed at that. "Besides, I got to help old Lukas here repair your getaway car and get to bed early, so I can wake up in the morning and get you all paid to get drunk tomorrow too."

Everyone laughed again. Kitty called a toast in the corner to Beth, and the group forgot about it and went back to drinking and talking shit. Except Lukas Greer, fifty-nine, the oldest of the Reds, their main hacker and tech before Beth, standing beside her next to the skycar. He watched her from wrinkled brown eyes, grinned, and shook his head.

"I've forgotten more tech than you'll ever know, Shepard."

"I know," Beth murmured. "But they don't. Not yet. I pulled one big, shiny trick to start and they think it's who I am. Took me weeks to work it out. But you can teach me more. Why do you think I stay late every day? It's not 'cause I love the smell of beer and piss."

"You've got some potential," Lukas admitted. "Got the feel for it, and you're quick, and those are things you can't teach. But you can do other stuff, too, Shepard. You bring in a lot of game on the weekends."

"Cops don't look for a kid when they're looking for leads on the gambling rings," Beth shrugged. "And the ones that aren't sure if they're interested think I'm cute and decide they are. It won't last. So I have to learn other stuff."

"Not just tech. Fighting and shooting too. You think I don't see you making up to 'em all, getting them to show you stuff during the downtime?" Lukas laughed a cracked, creaky laugh that was somehow still pleasant, as he showed her how he was rewiring the engine to give it more speed. Beth studied the process, committing it to memory, then fiddled with the computer so the speedometer history would report that the car had been going ten kilometers per hour less than it actually had been going when the cops checked the driver's story. Lukas grinned at her. "Good girl," he said.

"I like to learn," she said.

"But not to play." His eyes went over to the corner.

Beth shifted. Lukas watched her shrewdly. "It's alright, Shepard. Only the stupid ones go in to the gangs by choice, and you don't strike me as stupid," he told her. "I guess you'll relax eventually. They're ready to love you, you know."

Beth didn't answer. She grabbed a rag and started polishing. Lukas sighed. "Come here. I'll show you some common back doors into computer systems."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading. If you leave a review, thanks especially.**

 **Always,**

 **LMS**


	3. Potential

III

Potential

* * *

 **DIALOGUE, R. PARRISH, SCHOOL COUNSELOR, AND M. BIRCH, SECRETARY, UPON TRANSFERRING THE DISCIPLINARY FILE OF SHEPARD, BETH, TO THE SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL, 2169.**

M. BIRCH: What about this one? Shepard. Beth Shepard.

R. PARRISH: Let me see. She hasn't been in for a while. Hmm. Foster kid since before she came to us. She's been in . . . seven homes, never adopted. But only a four as far as the system's concerned.

M. BIRCH: . . . Four? What's that mean?

R. PARRISH: That means her guardians haven't had many disciplinary concerns about her. In the home, she's independent, but not hostile or a runaway risk, and she gets along with other fosters. Your basic kid trouble, nothing out of the ordinary.

M. BIRCH: (confused) But she was moved six times, and her file's pretty thick.

R. PARRISH: (paging through the file) As far as I can tell, _that's_ why she was moved, at least twice. This kid is fine in the home. At school or in the neighborhood? Not so much. I have here a bunch of parent complaints—never any actual lawsuits, but . . . (hisses, then slightly impressed) this girl messed some other kids _up_ back in elementary. Huh.

M. BIRCH: What?

R. PARRISH: According to teacher reports, this girl fights defensively. Or . . . fought, rather. To protect herself or other kids from bullying.

M. BIRCH: Junior vigilante?

R. PARRISH: Looks that way.

M. BIRCH: Good for her. But she stopped?

R. PARRISH: (somewhat surprised) Yeah. Around grade 6, the disciplinary reports slow _way_ down. Her grades were always stellar, but they get even better, especially in computer science and history. The last disciplinary report was filed over two and a half years ago, and apparently, she's graduating top of her junior high.

M. BIRCH: I'm going to switch her label to green. Sounds like she's grown up.

R. PARRISH: Yellow. She's a foster kid. You always need to watch them, Mona. I hope Beth Shepard's turned it around, but kids like her—they don't have a lot of options—and they have a lot of issues. At least she seems smarter than most.

* * *

Sweat beaded on Beth's brow, threatening to run into her eyes, and she grinned at the four people opposite her. Kitty and Jim looked nervous. Finch was angry. Only Stace was cool as ever, watching her every move for tells. Finch came first. He punched out, and Beth sidestepped and caught his arm. She threw him over her hip and kicked him in the ribs, just hard enough so he knew she could destroy him if she wanted.

Kitty and Jim came next. They tried to catch her between them, trap her, but she ducked out, caught Jim a blow to the head right to a pressure point, not nearly hard enough to kill, or quite hard enough to knock him out, but enough that he fell back, dazed, and sat down hard enough that his ass would probably hurt more than his head. Kitty got in a good blow to Beth's thigh. Beth's leg almost buckled, but she'd already aimed her punch to wind Kitty, and it connected, breaking her air and making her stagger back. Beth swept her foot around and hit just above Kitty's ankle, really making her legs buckle beneath her, and she went down with her husband.

Then Stace was on her, faster than all the others and a whole lot smarter. She was, after all, the one that had taught Beth to fight smart instead of hard in the first place. Dodge, duck, block, guard, don't move until you _move_ , the three years of instruction played over and over in Beth's head as she went at it hammer and tongs with Stace. Finally, she caught Stace in a hold. Stace could get out if she wanted. But the point was that Beth had been able to catch her at all.

Beth laughed aloud, high on her success, then, like lightning, drew Stace's gun, turned, and aimed at the range target across the warehouse. Checking the sight lines in a heartbeat, she fired the pistol once, twice, five times into the target, twenty-three meters away.

There were eleven of them in just then, counting Beth's sparring partners. About half the gang. But for a long moment after she fired the gun, it was dead silent in the warehouse. Then, Lopez got up off of the crate he'd been sitting on and walked all the way to the other end of the warehouse to the target, and Beth realized just how stupid she'd been.

Hastily, she handed the gun back to Stace. Stace took it without a word. Lukas Greer watched Beth with pale face and worried eyes. He shook his head. Across the warehouse, Lopez looked at the target. Then he walked back. He clapped once, twice, five times. Each clap rang out like the shots from before and echoed through the silent warehouse. Beth shuddered.

"Dead center, every shot," Lopez said. "I'd like to see what you could do with a moving target, Shepard. Seems our Little Beth's grown up into the deadliest hitter in the Reds. That was some display."

Beth laughed, and hated that the laugh sounded hollow, sounded fake, sounded scared. "I probably just got lucky, Tony. And Stace totally could've had me if she wanted. In a second. I wouldn't stand a chance against Nash either."

She shot a nervous glance at Lopez's number two. The Reds were thieves and criminals, but for the most part they were alright. They looked out for their own and made their way, but that was business. Nash was a different story. Beth had known that from day one, even before she'd known his name. He'd relished making her scream when all the others had hesitated putting her on the ground, as little as she'd been back then. Now he watched her with his cold, green eyes, appraising her.

"Maybe," he said. His voice always reminded Beth of gravel in a cement mixer. "Maybe not. You're damn good, Little Beth. Could be a soldier, like Stace. Couple of jobs we could use you on."

"I need her," Lukas spoke up. He shrugged, as if embarrassed. "These old hands don't move like they used to, and I don't see so good anymore. You got someone else who can do what she does? Your tech support takes a hell of a dive if you make Beth a heavy, Tony."

"Besides," Stace said, "She's still sloppy. Left her left wide open there at the end, and we've never practiced on a moving target, like you said. Geek like Beth'd probably freak, when push came to shove and things got hot."

Beth felt a rush of gratitude and affection for both Stace and Lukas, but she was careful not to let it show on her face as Lopez considered. "Alright," he said. "But keep working with her, Stace. Beth, you sure you want to stay in school, though? Nash is right. We could use you full time. You could help Lukas and do more."

The choice meant she could still win this argument, and Beth seized the opportunity. "The minute I drop out I'm half the use," she said. "I'm not suspicious after four and on the weekends. Cops see me in the day, and they know something's up, even if they think I'm just playing hooky. I don't want you caught 'cause of me."

Maybe she was playing it too broad, laying it on too thick, but Lopez let it slide anyway. "Have it your way," he shrugged. He reached out and ruffled her hair. "But I'm watching you, Little Beth. Man, when you graduate? We're going to tear it up!"

He turned away, and so did almost everyone else, going back to talking and drinking and whatever. But Nash continued to watch her with his cold, green eyes.

Stace jerked her head, and Beth followed her out of the warehouse. "You're playing with fire, Shepard," Stace muttered under her breath. "That was too close. You can't practice back there anymore. Not where the others can see you."

"Yeah, no shit," Beth said. "Can you hold off Tony?"

"Only if you lay low," Stace warned. "Only reason he let us all talk him down just now is 'cause he likes you, and he doesn't want you hurt any more than Lukas and me, really. But he's the boss, and he's got to use his resources. He'll pretend to forget you're one, as a favor to me, but that's only if Nash and Finch and them don't remind him. He's got to stay in charge, too. If Nash ran the show—"

"You don't have to tell me," Beth said. She shuddered again. "I'll lay low," she promised Stace. "Stick to the tech where the others can see. I'm sorry I slipped. I just—"

"You're good," Stace said. "You wanted to feel it for a moment. I get it. But don't slip again. You don't want to have to do the stuff I've done."

Beth looked up into her friend's hard, scarred face. Stace was right, but, "I don't want to do the stuff I've done, either," she murmured.

Stace sighed. She looked so much older than nineteen as she said, "I know, kid. I know." She put an arm around Beth's shoulders, and the two of them walked on into the night.

* * *

 **A/N: A lot of the OCs in these early parts of _Disaster Zone_ don't matter much. They come and go, just passing through Shepard's life, like most people _you_ knew when you were younger, whether that was grade school or the first town you lived in as an adult. But like every life, Shepard's has exceptions. Stacey Paxton is one. She's also a bit of a nod to default FemShep, as an acknowledgment that there's always someone out there who can do just what you do but takes a different road or doesn't have the same opportunities. **

**Did you spot the character in this chapter that _wasn't_ an OC (for all they don't appear on fanfiction's character list for Mass Effect)? **

**Leave a review if you've got something to say,**

 **LMS**


	4. Nobody's Mother

IV

Nobody's Mother

Joan Redding had gotten a couple more wrinkles, a few more gray hairs in the five years since Beth had seen her last, but she recognized Beth on sight and burst out beaming, and Beth wanted nothing more than to run. "Beth!" The nurse cried. "It is you, isn't it? Look at you! You've got to be downright pretty! What are you doing back here?"

Anxious to turn the attention away from herself as quickly as possible, Beth gestured at Stace. "My friend—"

Joan Redding was a nurse first, and she turned to Stace. "Yes. What's your name, dear?"

"Stacey Paxton," said the same. "I need . . . I need you to run a test. I think I'm pregnant. Four of those convenience store kits say so, anyway. I need to confirm it. And then . . . then I need to decide what the hell to do." If Stace had been knocked up, Beth thought, it was a lie what they said, that pregnant women glowed. Stace looked like glue, white and sweaty, and scared as hell. Beth wondered if her own mother had looked like that when she'd found out she was pregnant.

"Yes, of course. I'm Nurse Redding. I'll just need to take your vitals, and then you'll need to give me a urine sample," said the nurse, switching gears without a hitch. She took Stace's blood pressure, weight, height, asked her age. Stace wouldn't be a teen mom, but she'd just barely missed it. Nurse Redding wrote down all the information, then when Stace went to give her urine sample, she turned back to Beth. "So, how do you two know each other?" she asked.

"She's my neighbor," Beth lied. "Sometimes she and her sister Meg help me watch the little kids when my guardians go out." That part was not a lie. Lies always worked better when there was a little truth mixed in, she'd found.

"Nice of you to come to the clinic with her. How are _you_ doing, sweetheart? Really?" The nurse looked down at her with evaluating eyes, like the social workers, like the school counselors, but the thing was, Beth knew Nurse Redding cared. That made it harder, lying. Also made it necessary.

"Fine. I'm fine, Nurse Redding." It was a clear invitation for the nurse to shut up and butt out, but the nurse persisted.

"I was surprised you never called. I hoped to hear from you, after we met."

Beth folded her arms and wouldn't look at the woman. "Look, you told me about my mom," she said. "I appreciated it." But that was too blatant a lie and wouldn't stand—she'd hated what she'd heard that day, and Nurse Redding knew it—so she corrected herself. "Well. I know it couldn't have been easy, and you were really nice about it. But that's it, okay? You gave me a name to go on the paperwork, but that's as far as we go. Don't act like you know me, lady."

The tomcat routine usually worked with other people. When she puffed up and spat, talked bigger than she was, she'd found most adults wouldn't bother trying to push past the hostility to ask more questions and would go back to minding their own damn business. Trouble was, it hadn't worked on Nurse Redding the first time, either. She'd seen past it then, and she saw past it now.

She searched Beth's face. "What are you into, child?" she asked then. "Why are you ashamed?"

But then Stace came back, and she had to take the urine sample, and take the paperwork back to the lab. Beth was grateful when she left but somehow didn't feel any better. She cursed, and shifted in her seat.

"What's up with the nurse? How do you know her?" Stace asked. She didn't really care. She stared at the wall, and her hands twisted in her lap. Stace had her own problems.

At least Beth could distract her a while. "My mom ran out on me the day I was born and never even named me," she answered. She jerked her head at the door. "That was the woman that did. She told me the short, sad story a few years back, and now she thinks I owe her something, I guess. Didn't know she'd be your nurse. Wouldn't have come if I'd known."

"I like her," Stace said. She looked over at Beth, frowned. "You do too, don't you, Shepard? That's why you didn't want to see her. Why you lied. Neighbors." Stace barked a laugh. "At least it's better than saying you know me from church."

Beth grimaced. "Because the truth would've gone over so well," she retorted. "Anyway, you're one to talk. You don't tell Meg shit about the things you do for the Reds." She gestured at the room, Stace's stomach. "You told her about this yet?"

"No."

"Told Tony?"

Stace shook her head. "You're the only one that knows, Beth," she said. "Might not ever go further. I'm nobody's mother."

Beth hugged her arms around herself. It was nice and warm in the clinic, but the heating and insulation all at once didn't seem near enough to keep out the winter chill. "That's what my mother said, according to Nurse Redding. Will you abort, then?"

Stace stared at the floor. "I don't know," she murmured. "I just . . . it's already a strain, with me and Meg. I can't take care of a baby, too. And it's not like Uncle Dave does shit for us."

"With you looking out for her, Meg could get a job," Beth said. "She would if you asked her. She's smart. It'd be minimum wage, but they'd hire, and it'd help. Tony would help too, if you asked him. Hell, I think he'd marry you now, even without knowing. Take care of you and Meg and the baby. I think he'd've asked already if he thought you'd say yes."

Stace was skeptical. "And what kind of life would that be, Shepard?" she demanded. "I love the bastard, but there's no stability, no security there. The minute either one of us slips up, the second something goes wrong on a job, pfft, that's it. I get shot, or he gets busted and goes to jail for ten years. Plus, he still thinks he's too old for me."

"It is a fifteen-year age gap," Beth pointed out.

"I don't care, and until he doesn't either we're casual," Stace said fiercely. "I won't have him regretting anything, Beth. Not a thing. So this? Whatever happens, it's on me. I was the moron that forgot to take her damn pill."

Beth stared up at her friend. "Say whatever you want, Stace, you'd be a fantastic mother," she said, and she'd never meant anything more in her life. "All the abusive shrews, whiny idiots, and selfish cows in the world that have kids? You'd love that baby to death. You'd take care of him. Or her. No matter what. And that kid would grow up to kick ass."

Stace smiled, just a little, and her freckled, scarred face smoothed so the strong, beautiful, young woman underneath the Reds' top hitter shone out, just for a moment. "It would, wouldn't it?" she whispered. "And God, the kid'd be cute."

"I don't know," Beth teased. "Tony and a ginger? The kid could be pretty weird looking, if you ask me." She nudged Stace's shoulder with her own.

"No. It'd be cute," Stace said, as if that settled the matter. "Beth. If I am pregnant . . . you think I should keep it?" She stared at Beth, and Beth's stomach twisted as she realized Stace Paxton actually wanted her opinion on something so important.

She swallowed. "I think that's up to you," she said at last. "But Stace, if you are—if you decide to carry to term, but give it away, hold the kid before you do. Give it a name, and give the doctors yours, and pass on your medical records. Just, if you give it a chance, one way or the other, make sure it's a _real_ chance."

Stace held her gaze. "Yeah," she promised seriously. "Yeah, I will. But Beth? You do alright. You know that, don't you?"

Beth looked down. "Lied to Nurse Redding though," she replied. She didn't have to say anything else. Stace knew exactly what she meant.

"You never hurt anybody," Stace defended her. "God, you never even rip off anybody unless you're damn sure they deserve it. You think I don't notice, how careful you are not to get in too deep? How hard you work to keep up in school? You're headed places, and you won't let the Reds or anything stop you."

Beth felt her face heat up. "Is it that obvious I'm going to leave?" she asked.

"Only to those of us that know you," Stace reassured her. She snorted. "And you've been careful _that_ doesn't happen much, either. Not that the new guy, Will, wouldn't just _love_ to get to know you better." She jostled Beth back, teasing, but seeing Beth didn't take the bait, too interested in the answer to her question, Stace continued. "I think Lukas knows too, but no one else, and neither of us want to stop you."

Beth squirmed, guilty. She certainly didn't want to stay hip deep in the Tenth Street Reds her entire life, but Stace was her friend, and suddenly, especially here, now, what she planned felt like abandonment. "Stace, I'm—I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Stace told her. "Nothing holding you back. I hope you do get out. Tear up the world for the rest of us, right? For me. I'd be a lousy friend to want to keep you when you have a shot at something better."

"So do you," Beth promised her friend, and she meant it. "It'll be harder for you, Stace, but one way or another, you'll make it. You will. You'll make things good for you and yours, for Meg, and whoever else comes along. You may have to do it differently, but I think you're getting to the place where you might be able to do that."

Stace considered this. "Maybe." She smiled then, reached over, and squeezed Beth's hand. "You're a good friend, Beth. Thanks for coming here with me."

"Yeah," Beth said, as a hand touched the doorknob, signaling the doctor's arrival with news, and counsel, one way or the other.


	5. A Place to Sleep

V

A Place to Sleep

Beth trudged into the home sometime after nine, but the Hardins were still shouting at one another. They'd probably started the quarrel two hours ago, when Mr. Hardin had come in late for dinner and Mrs. Hardin had started asking him where he'd been. It'd been the same for three years now. Funny, how joining the Reds had actually been good for Beth's home stability. The Hardins didn't really care where she'd been, so long as she didn't cause trouble at the home and babysat when they wanted to go out and "reconnect." They weren't bad guardians as far as foster parents went. But God, they were annoying.

The Hardins took no notice of her as she passed through the worn, brown living room and into the green linoleum kitchen but just kept bickering over the coffee table. There was a yellow note on the fridge in Mrs. Hardin's handwriting that said Jack from school had called again for Beth. Beth sighed and crumpled it up before throwing it in the trash. The boy wouldn't take the hint that she just wasn't interested. She didn't need that crap. Didn't need anything holding her back.

Beth grabbed a paper plate out of the cabinet and helped herself to some cold ham and green bean casserole from the fridge. She didn't bother heating it up, but wolfed it down standing, washed her fork, tossed the plate, and grabbed her water bottle, by the sink in the draining pan. She filled it up with tap water, screwed the lid on, and walked back through her shouting guardians to her room with a tired, sarcastic wave they didn't even acknowledge.

If the Hardins had been asleep at this point, Beth might have heard loud, strung-out sex going on down the hall. But since they weren't and she didn't, Beth just bet the window in Janey's room was open and she'd snuck out to see Ethan, or Joey, or whatever loser she was sleeping with this week. Theo was pumping his music anyway out of the cheap-ass stereo he'd saved for weeks to get secondhand, though, trying to drown out the noise, because shouting or sex, no one wanted to hear that. Beth envied Theo his stereo, but she saved her money for other things.

Beth's room was small and brown like the living room. Ratty, brown, plastic blinds over a tiny, dirty window. A table and chair with an ancient console on top. A small, chipped mirror that hung over it. But none of that was Beth's. Her five or six sets of clothes were hung and folded in a closet that was still too small, and the rest of her stuff was in her old, blue duffel, faded and falling apart, that she still kept in the corner by the bed even after three years, out of habit, and increasingly now because she'd need it again someday soon.

The bed was low and the mattress was bumpy, but right now, that wasn't the problem. Caitlin was on it, even though since Janey was out, she could sleep in her own room tonight. "Beth!"

Beth sighed, threw her backpack in the closet, and opened her arms obligingly for the five-year-old. The little girl hugged her with that incredible strength Beth always saw in the smallest, scared ones. Hugging tight to anything solid and good they could find in their cold, crappy world.

"Catey, what are you doing here?" Beth said. "You should be asleep. Janey's not here, is she?"

"No, she's out, but I can't sleep. Not with Theo and them. Anyway, I like it better with you," Caitlin said, cheerful in her selfishness. She had no idea how much she kicked, and she never remembered the nightmares she had about her daddy in the morning. And Beth was so, so tired.

It was exam time at school, and then she'd pulled a hack-and-heist on the Comets this afternoon, against tougher security than she'd ever tried to beat. Then Nash had come in from a job, and without Stace, he ran into a lot more trouble these days. The skycar had been badly banged up, and Beth had had to put in a few hours fixing it, too, and later, punch out Will when he'd got too handsy after the celebrating on the other side of base had been going on a while. It was a shame, too. They got on when Will was sober. He'd probably be pissy tomorrow. He hadn't been around a couple years back when Beth was still practicing fighting in the base. Beth was just the tech chick to him, and he had a bit of an ego. It'd probably be a couple weeks before they could be friends again. Well, friendly. Stace and Lukas were still her only real friends in the Reds. Everyone else was too damn sold on the whole thing, and therefore too dangerous.

Still, Beth hugged Caitlin back to her and stroked her hair. "Alright," she said. "You can stay. Try to sleep now, okay? I'm going to be up a while."

"I'll try," Caitlin promised. All she'd needed was the permission. Already in her nightshirt, she snuggled down immediately into the threadbare sheets and the wool comforter, somehow managing to hog most of the tiny bed with her tiny self, and clutching her stuffed rabbit to her, the last gift from her mother before the neighbors had called the social worker about her father.

Beth went over to the closet and changed into the old, soft T-shirt she slept in. She smelled her clothes, decided they were still okay, and hung them back up in the closet. Then she knelt down and opened her backpack. She ignored the datapad where she kept all her homework. What with exams, most of it wasn't due until halfway through next week, anyway. Instead, Beth looked over the three tablet novels she'd checked out from the library. She decided _Ships in Space: The Basics of Three-Dimensional Military Strategy_ sounded more appealing tonight than _Humanity United: A Short History of the Alliance_ or _Not Alone: A Traveler's Guide to Alien Culture._ She'd had it with people today, and cold, impersonal physics sounded beautiful.

Outside in the living room, Mrs. Hardin had finally stopped yelling and started crying, and now Mr. Hardin would be all soft reassurances. Beth still hadn't decided whether all Mr. Hardin's reassurances were honest or not, whether Mrs. Hardin actually had a reason to be suspicious and angry. Honestly, she didn't care. Anyway, it was quieter now. Theo had turned off his music too. Behind Beth, Caitlin's breathing was slowing.

She stood with the book and moved to the bed. She resituated Caitlin, and Caitlin made a small groan of protest, then snuggled up to Beth.

"Read it to me?" she asked. Her voice was heavy with sleep.

"It's not a story, Caitlin," Beth warned. "It's another one of those that won't make any sense."

"Don't care. Like to hear you. Please?"

Beth softened. "Alright." She activated the book, and the screen lit up. Beth took a drink from the bottle she'd placed beside her bed and began to read.

* * *

 **A/N: Sometimes publishing these seems like shouting sonnets into empty space. But if you're out there, if you're reading and enjoying, this is for you. And at least keeping to the schedule gives my week structure.**

 **LMSharp**


	6. Out of the Bag

VI

Out of the Bag

"Stace, get Tony out of here. Don't worry. I've got Meg and Hope. Jim, Kitty, move that crate over there over the target. Nash, Finch, take the car, and get lost."

Stace looked with wide, terrified eyes at her little sister and her baby as she held up Lopez, half-conscious and losing blood fast. But she staggered out the back door of the warehouse right away, dragging Tony with her. She knew he'd need medical attention fast, but they couldn't trust the paramedics. Meg, sitting on an overturned crate, was still white as chalk from her ordeal. The marks on her wrists where she'd been held were angry red, and Hope, held in her aunt's arms, was wailing like no tomorrow.

Sam and Ren were tying up the last of the turians on the floor. One of them started to come to. He caught sight of Beth. She didn't have a translator implant like Tony and Nash, so she didn't understand the words he spat, but she could guess it was pretty nasty. The tone and the look in his eyes was unmistakable. Ren kicked him in the ribs, and he hissed.

"None of that!" Beth snapped at her. "Leave it to the cops."

"But Beth . . ." Ren looked at the body on the floor. Lukas lay where he fell. The pool of blood around him shone wet and scarlet still. Beth didn't look at it.

" _Leave it_ ," she repeated. Ren stepped back from the turians. "Nash, Finch, I said get lost. The car can't be here when the cops show up, and neither can you. They saw you last week at the shooting. They can't link that to this. _Get gone_."

When Nash still didn't move, Beth rounded on him, drawing her pistol and aiming right at Nash's left eye. "I said: _get gone_ ," she repeated again. She didn't speak much louder than a whisper. Didn't trust that if she tried she wouldn't start screaming or crying or something just as stupid and useless, but her voice echoed in the silent warehouse anyway. Everyone stared, waiting to see what she'd do, waiting to see what _he'd_ do. No one but Lopez or Stace had ever confronted Nash directly. No one had dared. Stace and Tony hadn't ever pulled a gun on him. But Nash's stupidity and aggression had got Lukas killed this time. It was past time someone called Nash on his shit, and it wasn't like she hadn't already blown _Little Beth_ to hell the second she'd answered Meg's warning com and taken charge instead of cover. As far as Beth was concerned, if Nash pushed her, she wouldn't hesitate.

Nash didn't agree. "You wouldn't," he sneered. He jerked his head at the prisoners. "You're soft, Shepard. You didn't kill them, and you won't kill me. And the cops are coming."

"Try me," Beth snarled. "You were there at the shooting. It's your fault this happened. I don't have to be so nice. You can stay, and we can let the cops put two and two together after all. Put his gun in your hand," she jerked her head at one of the turians' pistols, on the floor, "And this looks like last week the Suns had a little fight among themselves, that's all, and that today, things didn't work out like they planned. That's what I'll tell them: that you were with them, and we killed you in self-defense. You think the others won't back me up? I'm giving you a chance. But time's running out."

Beth twitched the gun toward the skycar and raised her eyebrow. Nash looked at her, evaluating, deciding. Then he looked around at the rest of the gang. No one said a word.

Nash looked like he still might go for Beth's gun, but Finch stepped up. "Come on, Nash," he muttered under his breath. Nash shot Beth one last, deadly glance. Once it would have terrified her, seeing him look at her with that much hatred. But now, Beth just felt tired. But she held the gun on him until he turned away and got into the skycar with Finch. Jim activated the cargo door, and Nash and Finch drove away.

In the distance, Beth heard the sirens coming. They had maybe two minutes, tops. She turned to the desk behind her, opened a drawer, and pulled out several plastic ID cards. "Will. Hand these out," she said, attaching one to her shirt. "Now we're employees here," she told everyone still in the room. "We're going to keep things simple. Meg, you were coming to visit your sister, okay? You listening?"

Stace's sister still couldn't speak a word, but she stopped staring at Lukas on the concrete floor long enough to nod that yes, she got it. "You were coming with your niece to visit your sister as a surprise, but she'd already stepped out to get takeout for us all," Beth continued. "Then it was a raid, just like Nash's last week. The Suns came in for skycar parts. They didn't like our rates. Sam, you were supposed to give them to the guy with the red tats." She waved her hand at the turian that had spat at her, and Sam acknowledged. "They took you and the baby hostage at gunpoint to secure a getaway, Meg. Then it's just like what actually happened, except Nash, Stace, Finch, and Tony were never here. The only gun our side had was this one, Tony's, that I grabbed from his office. Lukas still tried to free Meg, and they still shot him, and we still used the distraction to neutralize the situation. Self-defense. It'd be a clear-cut case, anyway, but let's not go into the details. Jim, Kitty, Will, Ren? You guys helped me take them down." Beth looked around as Will handed the last fake warehouse worker ID to Sam, glad she'd had the whim to make them all those months ago.

"Everyone got it?"

There was barely time for everyone to mumble agreement before there was a shout at the door. "Police! Come out with your hands up!"

"It's alright!" Beth yelled back. "The situation's been dealt with, and the attackers have been restrained. Call an ambulance, though. We've got one body. We're coming out now. I've got one gun, but I'm ejecting the ammo pack now." She ejected the ammo pack, letting the sound echo through the warehouse and out the open doors. Then she went to Meg. She put an arm around the girl and the baby. "Come on. It'll be okay, you'll see."

* * *

The entire gang talked up her part in the scuffle. The police called her a hero. The local news called, asking for an interview. It was a great story, they said, with tragedy, alien interest, and the salvation of two young lives. The people would want to know. Beth turned them down, and they had to do with a ten-second bit that barely scraped the surface. But that was just as well. The less said the better.

The Reds would be too close to the radar for a long time in any event. Until further notice, they wouldn't be using Lopez's warehouse after hours as a base.

Beth got two texts on her omni-tool at the end of that week, though, and Saturday morning, she made her way to Lopez's place, a decent enough downtown apartment. Since Stace and Meg had moved in, it'd been fixed up a bit, and it was now quite a homey little place.

All Lopez's most trusted people were there, camped out on the couch and around the table. Ren, Will, Sam. And Nash, perched on the ottoman, long legs under him ready to spring, like a large, blond spider, glowering at Beth from the shadows. Stace was leaning up against the kitchen wall, rocking Hope, and Tony was near her, arm in a sling.

"Well, well, Little Beth," he said, laughing at her in his way. "Looks like everyone's here. I think we need to talk about what went down Tuesday." He met her eyes then, and said seriously, "You saved everyone's ass, Shepard. Saved Stace and her sister. Saved my daughter."

Beth shook her head. Her mouth tasted like ash. "I didn't save everyone," she disagreed.

"Greer was slow," Nash said. "He should've retired ages ago. Incredible he lasted as long as he did. I've been expecting him to kick it every day for years."

"You shut up, Nash," Stace snapped. "He was a good man."

There were murmurs of agreement from Sam and Ren. "I'm going to miss that old bastard," Tony admitted. "He was a Red through and through. I'm sorry he's gone. But there's no question that it could've been a hell of a lot worse."

"It was a bad job from the get-go, Tony," Stace said. "Nash and Finch moving on their own? Against the Blue Suns? They're so far out of our league it's not even . . . they could've annihilated us. All of us. Would have, if Beth hadn't caught Meg's signal and sounded the alarm so we were ready."

"They could still take us out," Nash growled. " _Little Beth_ didn't have the stomach to kill the fucking aliens, even after they captured Meg and shot dear Lukas. You think more aren't going to come after us for landing their guys in jail? Violence is the only thing these people understand."

"Killing their guys would've started a gang war that we'd _lose_ ," Beth argued. "Besides, they won't go to a jail on Earth. Turian. The cops will have to turn them over to the turian government, and they'll go to jail in turian space."

"Oh, so the fucking turians will just turn them loose and they'll come right back to get even themselves," Nash retorted. "Yeah, letting them go was a _great_ idea."

"Will they go to the turian government?" Tony asked.

"Yeah," Ren confirmed. "Local Earth government isn't authorized to hold aliens, even if they break local law. Only the Alliance, and I didn't think to call them instead."

"More and more aliens are visiting Earth. Laws need to catch up, or little operations like ours will be the least of the cops' problems," Sam remarked.

"That doesn't matter right now." Stace said. "Will they come back, Beth?"

Beth shook her head. "No. They're criminals. Turians? They aren't like humans. Totally civic minded. Every single one of them is expected to represent their race and uphold the law with honor. Those that don't are outcasts. They get caught? No way the turians let them wander around free to continue screwing over their reputation as 'galactic peacekeepers.'" Sam snorted a laugh. "No, those guys would be better off if they were going to an Earth prison," Beth finished. "And I'd bet the turians send a team down here to take care of any Suns presence in the city too."

"Just what we need. More aliens in our city," Nash muttered.

"Lay off, Nash. Everyone knows how you feel about aliens," Tony said. "You're just lucky I didn't let Stace shoot you for what happened because of it this time."

Nash shot Tony a look toxic enough to burn. Beth and Stace saw it, and exchanged a glance. Nash was getting more out of control every year. Stace had said before that the only reason things hadn't exploded yet was because Nash was Tony's friend from way back. But after Tuesday, Beth thought that it was only a matter of time. There was no friendship in Nash's eyes now. This whole mess was at his feet and he knew it, and it made him angry, and more dangerous than ever.

"Better to let _her_ do it," Nash said, jerking his thumb at Beth. "Prove _Little Beth's_ got guts as well as brawns and all those brains. She's been holding out on us. If I betrayed the Reds, let her hold 'em up."

But Lopez was done chewing out Nash. "We've already lost Lukas, Nash. I'm not going to lose you, too." Still, he contemplated Beth. "But he is right, Shepard. You been holding out on us. That shit back when? When you were kicking everybody's ass for a while in practice? You, Stace, and Lukas sold us it was a fluke. Wouldn't hold up in combat conditions. Guess you were wrong."

Beth stiffened. God, she'd just known that her heroics in the warehouse would come back to bite her in the ass. She didn't meet Tony's eyes, but she didn't deny it, either. Denial would be pointless now, and dangerous too. So she just said, "I'm a tech, Lopez. Only one you got now."

Lopez had come a couple steps her way. He peered down at her. "Maybe, maybe," he conceded, "But you're also a hell of a fighter, a crack shot, and a cool head in a crisis." He paused, glanced around the room, added, "Not to mention apparently an authority on aliens. We're learning a lot about you, aren't we, kid?"

Nash, sensing a point made, pressed it. "She's not a Red, not really," he sneered. "I been watching her for years. She never put everything into us, Tony. She _never_ did. Never shares a drink with her friends at the end of the day. Just sits still and watches. Learns whatever she can and does just enough you keep her around. Not half of what she could. Little Beth. Hah! She could kick all of our asses to hell and back, even your precious Stace, or save us a fuck-ton of work every damn day, but she doesn't have the heart. She's a dynamo, but it's wasted on the bitch."

"Fuck off, Nash!" Stace cried. "Or I'll kick your ass to hell and back."

At her tone, Hope woke up and started to whimper. Stace rushed to soothe her. "Yeah, Mommy?" Nash laughed. "I'd like to see you try. You've lost your stuff, Paxton. You've gone soft. If you weren't always, deep down. You were always backing Shepard, anyway. Right from day one."

"Because she's a kid, Nash," Ren said. "She's _still_ a kid. Talented, but she's got time."

Nash folded his arms. "Eighteen," he said. "How old were you when you made your first sand run? Sam, when did you jack your first car, hmm?"

Ren and Sam blinked and looked at Beth as if they'd never seen her before. Well, thought Beth, they hadn't. She'd made sure of that. But it looked like that was over with. "You always _do_ stay out of the big jobs, Beth," Ren said. "You don't even bring customers to the game anymore."

"Since I turned fifteen, when I come up to talk they think I'm a badly dressed prostitute," Beth explained. "And either way that ends doesn't turn out well for me or the game."

Ren accepted this with a grudging nod. "If they're interested, you disappoint them and they leave angry. If they're not, they don't buy in. Okay. Fine. But you could handle other jobs, Beth. Definitely."

Beth took the hit. Wasn't much else she could do now. "Yeah, so maybe I could," she admitted. "But you need a tech. I'm better where I am. Learned it from you, Lopez," she added, appealing to Tony. "Gang's best offense is a good defense, right? Anonymity. I help you stay low. Keep your car running, your weapons in shape, and your security tight. I get you away in a pinch and run interference when someone tries to hack you. I get caught or even IDd on a job, by the cops or someone else, you're suddenly running at half efficacy without that defense."

Tony'd been watching all this time, hearing the argument, reserving judgment. "Awfully hard sell there, Little Beth. Methinks the lady doth protest too much," he said, but Beth knew by his tone she'd made her case. She'd proved on Tuesday that in a crisis she _would_ step up. Lopez owed her, and he knew it, and besides, Nash was obviously looking for a fight. "You graduate in a few weeks, right?"

"Yeah."

"Top of your class, Stace tells me."

"I did well enough. I'm not valedictorian."

"Oh, seventh in a class of fifteen hundred," Stace snorted. " _Well enough_."

"You'll have your diploma, no cop will see you and think you're playing hooky," Lopez continued in a reasonable tone. "You can get job and go to work like the rest of the world. Couple openings in the warehouse. I hear you've already got an ID. You'll have time to do more than just the defense." He looked at his second. "She'll play her part, Nash. Will that make everybody happy?"

Stace watched Beth, but Beth kept her face impassive. "Sure," she lied. "I'll be glad of the extra money. They would've kicked me out of the home last week. Aged out of it, but they like to encourage kids to finish school. I'll need to get my own place anyway."

Tony extended his good arm to shake, and Beth shook. Nash grunted and glared, but didn't argue. "Be good to have you full time, Shepard," Sam said. "Place is a little brighter when you're around. And if we get into another tussle with some turians, you can save all our asses again. I'll teach you to get shipments out the airport. We'll have you making runs by summer's end."

 _By summer's end_ , Beth thought, _I will be so far gone you won't even know what system I'm in_. She looked over at Nash. He was right, though not the way he thought. It wasn't that she didn't have the guts, but she wasn't a Red. She'd been careful for another reason, and now, it didn't matter that her secret was out of the bag, that they knew she could do more than she'd done for them. Because Nash was right, too, that she could kick all their asses by now. She didn't need them like she had as a child of twelve. The Reds didn't have anything on her. Nobody was going to hurt Lopez's girl, and Lukas was dead. There was no reason for her to stick around anymore. In a few weeks, she'd be gone.

* * *

 **A/N: I want to thank all of you for your support last week. I wrote this for fun, but sometimes it's good to hear other people are enjoying it. If you like** _ **Little Beth**_ **, stay tuned! This story will conclude on Saturday, but the next part,** _ **Soldier**_ **, will begin posting next week.**

 **Always,**

 **LMS**


	7. Enlistment

VII

Enlistment

* * *

 **THE ACADEMIC BOARD OF MARS STREET SECONDARY SCHOOL, REVIEWING THE 2172 GRADUATES**

G. DAWSON: Well, what do we know about number seven?

T. RICHMOND: Number seven? Huh. Not much. Her extracurriculars are nonexistent. She comes to school then she goes home. No record of community service hours . . .

F. CARD: There wouldn't be. She's almost like the homeless ones. Beth Shepard's a foster kid. She's been in the system forever. When people serve the community, they're helping kids like her. When she does it, it's helping out the neighbor, and she wouldn't write it down.

G. DAWSON: Her marks are equal to the marks of the six students that rank her, in more challenging courses.

S. GOTTLIEB: What's she taking?

T. RICHMOND: Let's see. (Paging through file) She's dual-enrolled right now in university-level macrophysics, calculus, galactic history, and programming at the Tech. She's also taking AP Linguistics III and Alliance Gov with us. Oh, and gym—but she's auditing that.

V. SWEETING: What are her instructor reports like?

T. RICHMOND: Her instructors like her. They say she's quiet and diligent and always goes above and beyond. But she's also a loner. Lack of extracurriculars aside, even, she doesn't seem to have a place here, ore any real friends at all. But she isn't bullied either.

F. CARD: No. She wouldn't be. Shepard had quite the disciplinary record up until intermediate school. Went through a couple homes because of it. By sixth grade, she was apparently taking on entire groups of those kids that were particularly violent toward others or xenophobic in some way, alone, even if they were two or three years older than her, and giving them something to think about, too. She stopped suddenly shortly thereafter, but word gets around.

S. GOTTLIEB: There's notes here that several of our coaches on multiple occasions attempted to get her to go out for athletics—football, track and field, basketball, women's hockey, the works—but without a scholarship available, Shepard had to decline.

V. SWEETING: She's unemployed? No source of income?

T. RICHMOND: Her Tech tuition is a full academic ride, based on her test scores.

G. DAWSON: Future plans?

F. CARD: None in the file. But I think I could hazard a guess. Shepard won't get lost in the streets.

S. GOTTLIEB: Good. A mind like that—it'd be a positive waste.

* * *

Caitlin found Beth at 6 am the morning after graduation, putting the last few things in her old duffel. She zipped it up and swung it over her shoulder. "You're going away, aren't you?" Caitlin asked. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

"You know the home is for kids, Catey," Beth said. "I'm not a kid anymore. It's time for me to move on." She knelt down beside the kid and gave her one last hug.

"And they'll be after you if you stay. Stace's boyfriend and the others. Make you do bad things," Caitlin said. "Like they made Stace do once. Like my daddy."

Beth stared. She'd had no idea the kid had picked up so much. "Stace is nothing like your daddy and never was," she said. "She never hurt the people she should love and protect. She's good. She and Meg'll look after you, I think, if you keep in touch. Make sure you're alright."

"But you won't."

"No, Caitlin, I won't," Beth said. And yeah, it hurt a little, to tell the kid how things were.

"I'll miss you," Caitlin said. The little girl swallowed, and when she opened her mouth again Beth saw blood where she'd bit her tongue to keep from crying like a big girl. Caitlin held out her floppy stuffed bunny. "Here," she said, thrusting it roughly into Beth's arms. Then she ran.

Beth bit her own tongue, then she nodded, stuffed the plushie into the top of her bag, and left the room. But on the bed she left a datapad novel. Caitlin's favorite. She'd checked it out ages ago and read it to Caitlin, and the kid had asked for it so many times since that Beth had eventually just pinched it from the library, reported it lost, and paid the small fee. She activated it and looked at the cover page. It was an old novelization of the classic vid _Star Wars_. Beth grinned through the lump in her throat. How different things were from the way humans had imagined it two hundred years ago. She was about to go see for herself how things really were, but she'd leave this for her little accidental roommate.

The Hardins, Theo, and Janey weren't up yet. Beth left a note on the fridge for them.

 _Jeff and Casey—thanks. And thanks for not asking when I'd be moving so you could file for another kid. I appreciated it. Hope things work out for you two._

 _Theo—thanks for coming to graduation. Meant something that someone did. Left some music in your inbox. Enjoy._

 _Janey—left you a box of condoms in your closet. A big one. Seriously, stop screwing around. The drugs are messing up your life enough._

 _Love,_

 _Beth_

Bit bitchy, ratting on Janey like that, Beth knew, but honestly the kid deserved it. For Theo, at least. Maybe Jeff and Casey could actually help her. Stranger things had happened. Better if Janey had to deal with Casey searching her room for weeks, or being relocated to a higher security home, than she ended up strung out, raped, and left for dead in the gutter someplace. That was where she was headed if _something_ didn't change. Janey wasn't going to get smart on her own? Fine. Beth'd taken the last chance she could to _make_ her. It was all she could do.

Beth left the Hardins for the last time and locked the door behind her. She put her key in the mailbox. Wearing her duffel across her body to discourage theft, she walked the couple blocks down to the bus station. The bus that would take her downtown toward Kingsway and Beatrice was just pulling in. Pulling out a few credits from the neat little roll composed of her share of all the take the Reds had come into for the last eighteen months, Beth paid her fare and took a seat.

Her omni-tool vibrated around her wrist, and Beth looked down to see she'd received a message. She pulled it up. _Know you're outta here, Shepard. Tear it up for us, yeah? Kick some ass. Love from Stace, Meg, and Hope._

She looked at the message for a second. Smiled. Of course Stace had known. Her fingers moved across the keypad on her omni-tool. _Will you be alright?_

 _You know it,_ came the answer. _Always._

 _We were the best, Stace,_ Beth sent back. _You take care. Goodbye._

Then, just because, Beth dug in her duffel. At the very bottom, she found it, a crumpled, faded napkin, with a string of digits on it. She didn't know why the hell she'd kept it all this time, kept it seven years, but now she punched in Joan Redding's extranet address on her omni-tool and left a message there too.

 _I wasn't what you wanted me to be,_ she typed. _I couldn't be and survive. But I'll try to be in the future. I promise. Beth Shepard, headed for the stars._

She got off on Victoria and took 26th two blocks down to Beatrice. The clock outside the yoghurt shop and Beth's omni-tool said 7 am. The lights in the recruitment center went on, and a tall, clean-cut man in a blue uniform walked up from the back and unlocked the door, just opening for the day.

Beth clutched her duffel to her, everything she owned in the galaxy. She took a breath. She marched up the sidewalk. She threw the door wide open. The recruitment officer hadn't even made it back to his desk yet. He turned, surprised.

Beth crossed the floor, and stuck her hand out to shake. "Beth Shepard. Where do I sign up?"

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you've enjoyed _Little Beth_. We're about finished with Shepard's home backstory. The next part of _The Disaster Zone_ , _Soldier_ , will deal with her military history before the beginning of _Mass Effect_. _Soldier_ will begin posting November 1 next week. **

**Always,**

 **LMSharp**


End file.
